


Perhaps

by afterandalasia



Category: Cinderella (1950)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Bodyswap, Community: disney_kink, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, F/M, Movie 3: Cinderella III: A Twist in Time, Wedding Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-15
Updated: 2011-06-15
Packaged: 2018-05-31 11:47:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6468982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afterandalasia/pseuds/afterandalasia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Still wearing Cinderella's form as some terrible disguise, Anastasia tries to face her wedding night to the Prince.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perhaps

**Author's Note:**

> From the [anon prompt](http://disney-kink.livejournal.com/361.html?thread=1670505#t1670505) at Disney Kink.

Her hands had shaken as she had thrown the bouquet. The Prince had taken hold of them, and kissed them gently with warmth in his eyes but uncertainty about his smile, and she had fumbled for a smile in return.  
  
Her slipper had fallen from her foot as she went down the stairs. The King returned it to her, and she looked at him with something close to terror in her eyes, before turning to run.  
  
She hadn't been able to look the lady's maid in the eye when the woman had come to help her into her nightgown. Eventually the woman had said, "Do you want me to leave, Your Highness?" and she had only been able to nod mutely.  
  
Anastasia stepped out into the beautiful room that had been prepared for them in the country mansion that belonged to the Prince, and wrapped her arms around herself protectively. She could never have dreamed of being in a room so beautiful, with all carved wood and paintings on the walls and a huge four-poster bed all draped around with curtains. Her eyes lingered on the bed for a moment, the sumptuous sheets on it, then she shivered and turned around again, towards the windows.  
  
The garden was beautiful, all roses and lilies. Big bouquets had been bought into the room as well, filling it gently with their scent.  
  
She glanced down at herself, but only for a moment, because it felt wrong to look down at Cinderella's body. She had been given a beautiful silk nightgown, all edged with lace and billowing lightly against her skin. Cinderella's skin. Cinderella was all petite and pretty, with her body round with beauty and strengthened with the years of work. In the same form, Anastasia was almost painfully aware of the strength she could have had, the elegance with which she might just have been able to move, how sweet her voice might just sound.  
  
Only it wasn't her voice. It wasn't even her life.  
  
She crossed to one of the bouquets, picking out a sweet white rose from which the thorns must have been painstakingly removed. She didn't hear the door open behind her, the footsteps crossing the carpet soft and lush beneath her bare feet, and it was not until a hand fell gently on her shoulder that she returned to herself. With a cry of surprise, Anastasia whirled, stumbling against the table and sending the vase upon it rocking.  
  
"Woah, sorry!" said the Prince, reaching past her to steady the flowers and then, with a smile to her, taking her hand. She had her other arm held modestly across her breasts and could not look at him, until he tucked his fingers beneath her chin and turned her to face him. "I didn't mean to startle you." His eyes scanned hers. "Are you all right, Cinderella?"  
  
"Y-yes," she replied. "Of course."  
  
He glanced down at her hand for a moment, confusion flickering across his handsome brow, then the expression cleared and he kissed the back of it, just lightly. She felt flustered with the romance, finding it hard to breathe, then he straightened and looked her in the eye once again.  
  
"Come, we should go to bed. It's been a long day."  
  
He would never know how long. Anastasia had to blink away tears, finding herself smiling through them as he led her gently by the hand to the great wide bed and let her sit down on it. She wrapped both arms around herself, though the room was not cold, and stole a glance over her shoulder as he walked round to the other side of the bed and behind a screen. His head and the movements of his arms were just visible as he removed his clothes and donned a nightshirt, which came down to just beneath his knees as he returned.  
  
Blushing, Anastasia turned away, hearing him kneel on the bed and feeling the mattress sink slightly as he moved beneath her. Deft fingers brushed a curl of golden hair from her shoulder, pushed aside her nightgown, and then a gentle kiss was laid on her skin. The skin that she wore. The Prince stroked her arm gently, but she could not bring herself to turn around until he kissed her neck just behind her ear and murmured, "Are you sure that you're all right?"

“Yes," she said, finally shifting, turning to face him. He slid one arm around their waist and pulled them together, looking at her warmly, lovingly. It made her feel beautiful as he cupped her jaw gently, and when she closed her eyes she could forget that he did not know, because she was sure that he could come to love her in time. No matter what she looked like. "I'm just... tired."  
  
She wanted to crawl beneath the covers and hope that tomorrow she would wake up and feel more at ease with this new body. Perhaps one day she could tell him, when there had been enough time that he knew that he loved her.  
  
His fingers brushed across her cheek; it made her feel all a-flutter. Anastasia shuffled backwards out of his reach, up to the head of the bed. The Prince looked at her in faint concern as she smiled at him desperately, going to hitch her knees up to her chest, then kneeling instead and pushing down her nightgown so that it covered her legs.  
  
"Perhaps we should get to sleep."  
  
The suggestion tumbled almost desperately from her lips. She found herself frozen in place as he crawled up the bed towards her, not threatening but leaving her feeling trapped all the same, until he sat before he. He leant on the bed between them, leant forward; their noses brushed against each other, and then he kissed her on the lips, just sweetly, the way that she had imagined her Prince would.  
  
Her Prince...  
  
Slowly his kisses deepened, drawing her into him, tongue brushing over hers. Despite herself, she relaxed into his hold, putting one hand against his shoulder. His hand slipped around her waist, and so lost was she in the kiss that she did not realise at first the unfamiliar shape of her body as full breasts pressed to his firm chest, as delicate fingers ran over his shoulder. She could pretend that it was her throat that he kissed, that it was her body from which he drew, slowly and reverently, her nightgown. She could pretend that it was her breast that he cupped in his hand to caress with his lips and tongue, that it was her hands that strayed down his body, pushed up his nightshirt and let it drop to the floor.  
  
She could pretend that it was her body to which he made love. Which he cherished, and desired, and lavished love upon.  
  
Perhaps one day she would be able to tell him. Perhaps one day.  
  
When they grew to love... properly.  
  
Perhaps...


End file.
